


What Have We Become? What We Always Have Been.

by Thirtyk94



Category: Original Work
Genre: US Politics - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:29:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28610610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thirtyk94/pseuds/Thirtyk94
Summary: A bit of mental therapy for myself after yesterday. Take care of yourselves out there everyone and stay safe we're not even close to finished.





	What Have We Become? What We Always Have Been.

I wake with a slow coming on of consciousness, my eyes still closed and mind coming out of the pit of darkness that is all I remember of my dreams. The anger returns soon after that. I grab my phone off my nightstand and check various social media to see what has changed. Not much has. Conservatives offer false platitudes while liberals continue their vain attempts at reunification and cooperation with fascists. Then the conservatives again switch to shifting blame. They say the people who warned of exactly what happened are to blame, that they infiltrated a peaceful rally and incited them to violence. Calls for investigating the shooting of the woman who tried to cross a barricade to get to senators and elected representatives are made. Anger blooms anew in my veins, the heat of it makes it too hot under my blankets.

I continue browsing, seeing the woman being shot, watching as police who so eagerly beat, maimed, and gassed protestors weeks earlier for daring to question their uses of violence now escorting by hand the very people who have stormed and desecrated the halls of the democracy my family helped found and shape. I stay awake in bed for three hours scrolling as more and more comes out and the reality of what happened sinks in even further. That these bastards sought to destroy everything my family has spent four centuries working towards. I look at the clock, 03:00 AM it says, I groan and cover my eyes with my arm.

I get up seeing that I won’t be getting any more sleep tonight. The cool air of the room helps shock the remnants of sleep from me as I flick the light on. I dress quickly and do my morning routine about five hours early. Emotional numbness settles in as the waves of anger subside. I go to the living room and turn on the light closest to me. Its glow extends across the room and into the kitchen. I walk to the kitchen and prep the kettle for boiling before grabbing a seasonal black tea and a filter from the cupboard. I open the bag and the scent of black tea, cinnamon, and orange rind immediately hits my nose. I inhale the scent deeply helping to calm my nerves and ground me back in reality.

I fill the filter with my measured amount and wait for the kettle to boil. The fear of what comes next is rising now. Will things escalate further? Given who is president and who his cultish followers are they likely will. I scrub my face with my hands for what feels like the millionth time in the last several days and wonder if it will ever end. The glow from the blue flames of the stove cast an eerie glow across the kitchen, catching corners and utensils in an ethereal violet glow. I long for normal but know it can’t go back to that. That doing so would mean a return to the oppression which could be ignored for so many millions of people in this country and many hundreds of millions more abroad at this country’s behest. I don’t want normal. Normal is what got us here in the first place but I don’t know how to get us out of the place we are in now.

The kettle lightly whistles as the water inside it finally starts to boil. I set the timer on my phone for the steeping and pour out the water, watching it fill the cup and the color darken in the dim light as the flavors transfer from the tea to the water. I start the timer and continue to wait. I turn and pace to the light and back to the kitchen needing to do something, to move and keep my body occupied as my mind races. I want to scream, to shout, and demand. I want all those that supported and encouraged the conspiracies that led to the coup attempt the previous day to be imprisoned. I want justice for the violation of the basic premises of my nation. The timer goes off and I remove the filter from my cup, placing it in a composting bag. I get a spoon and add a small amount of sugar to my tea before pausing. What now? What do I do? How do I mentally sort through this and move to the next stage? Inspiration hits me and I pickup my cup before sitting down behind my computer. I turn it on and begin writing, hoping that it will help me process everything that has happened in the last twenty-four hours.


End file.
